


Welcome (back) to Gibraltar

by Hawkeye_918



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Let's see how this goes, M/M, mchanzo probably, this idea kept me up last night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 09:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11310657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye_918/pseuds/Hawkeye_918
Summary: Overwatch has been re-established and agents new and old are arriving at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. With a new commander and tighter regulations, will the fledgling organization get off the ground?(Definitely going to be McHanzo. Don't know about rating yet. Rated T for now.)





	Welcome (back) to Gibraltar

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there folks! Hawkeye_918 here! This is my second Overwatch story and I hope you like it. This story makes a better one-shot, I suppose, but for my purposes its gonna be a few chapters.

The recall of Overwatch agents had changed a lot for Jesse McCree. Namely, his lifestyle in the five years since the organization had been shut down. The last half-decade had been neither particularly glamorous nor particularly kind to the gunslinger. McCree had been traveling across North America, his goal: doling out justice where injustice was rampant. A latent effort to right his past wrongs, attone for the sins of his youth. Yet many endeavors, this one included, have the deceptive tendency to appear much easier than they actually are. So attempts by McCree to thwart the bad guys and clear his name usually only resulted in increasing the bounty on his head and forcing him to flee somewhere else in the continental United States.  
   
After getting into a disagreement with a rude businessman in a pub just outside Ft Lauderdale, Jesse realized his part in accidentally inciting a twenty-man bar brawl. After throwing the customary number of punches and avoiding furniture flung in his direction, Jesse noticed the barkeep on the phone… and Jesse’s own wanted poster hung next to the shot glasses. He took off like a bat out of hell.  
   
Another time, he’d found himself in a rural part of Southern New England. A surprising number of people there seemed to think that a couple hours north of Hartford was the Deep South, judging by the multitude of country radio stations and several Confederate flag bumper stickers. Yet Jesse decided to camp near a pond in an isolated area of Massachusetts’ Berkshire Mountains. Sleeping under the stars was a great idea. Until he awoke to a frog in his pants. A walk through the quaint, Norman Rockwell-esque town seemed like a good idea, too, until Jesse came face to face with his own wanted poster in the post office window.

 _What do you know? _He thought to himself. _My bounty’s gone up by another ten million.___   
   
Jesse would gladly recall many of his exploits. The good, the bad, _and _the ugly. But the one story he would not recall was what really happened on a hot, dry summer day in Southern Colorado.__  
   
It had been five years of this. Five, ungodly years of running around collecting bounty on people Jesse deemed worse than himself. People he deemed, well, irredeemable.  
   
But inevitably he’d be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his own bounty would go up as the public learned that the evil, bloodthirsty and murderous outlaw Jesse McCree held up a bank in Cheyenne. Or he'd shot someone in Lexington. Or raided a town in the Ozarks with his posse of killers and thieves. The list goes on. The fact that these accounts were obviously false or exaggerated, and alleged eyewitnesses either didn't remember quite what they saw or provided false testimony did not stop many folks from thinking him a cruel, sadistic villain straight out of a mid-twentieth century tv Western. Like the kind with a black hat and handlebar moustache who rustle cattle and hold up stagecoaches and wagon trains.  
   
But all that was over now. A call from Winston and Jesse McCree was already scheming about how he’d get his wanted self into Spain to rejoin his fellow agents.  
   
Riding in the cargo holds of many a hyper train and hitchhiking his way up through Morocco hadn’t been easy, to say the least. It'd taken a few weeks. The last step was just to finagle himself onto a ship from Tangier bound for the southernmost tip of Spain, Jesse’s intense dislike of boats be damned. He found his way from the marina to Watchpoint: Gibraltar, with the help of a “rented” motorcycle .  
It was wonderful to have everyone, well, partially everyone together again. There was laughter and tears and hugs and tales of adventures and exploits. Jesse was fielded questions about his metal arm, what happened to its flesh predecessor? He waved those questions off with a good natured smile but no actual answer.He also received many reports that he had died, in one insane, outlandish, going-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory way or another. Clearly, they were not true. Yet it was nice to listen to everyone’s stories, even though they sometimes only served to distract him from the multitude of questions he had pertaining to the recall.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Reinhardt Wilhelm had wormed his way out of mandatory retirement, against Angela’s recommendation that perhaps he move somewhere warm and take up shuffleboard. He had traversed Europe, especially Germany, with his armorer, Brigitte. Reinhardt recalled his tales of fighting off petty crooks and looters in villages damaged and abandoned during the Crisis.He had even regained the armor of his master, Balderich, in the desolate town of Eichenwalde where so many Crusaders perished.  
   
Mei-Ling Zhou, presumed lost with the rest of the scientific staff at Ecopoint: Antarctica, returned. She spoke of her disappointment at the disbanding of Overwatch, Mei was in denial that corruption and other illegal activity was the true cause of Overwatch’s downfall. Mei tried not to delve too deeply into the irrefutable horror of being the only person to survive cryostasis, nor the miserable circumstances preceding said cryostasis.But it was hard not to ignore the deep sadness in her eyes, despite her usual optimistic and upbeat attitude.  
   
Everyone else had their stories as well, though perhaps not as intense. Angela Ziegler had worked as a field medic wherever she was needed, and while she felt that work rewarding, she still longed for high-tech facilities in which to work and develop biotechnology with which to help mankind.  
   
Genji had resumed his nomadic lifestyle, occasionally working as an assassin when he had to. He had a plethora of tales from his travels, but as his usual stoic self, he did not divulge much.  
   
Torbjorn had spent time with his wife and children. The togetherness was splendid, and he tinkered around a lot. Yet he missed working on bigger engineering projects, like he had done at Overwatch.  
   
Lena had found a girlfriend and was enjoying the quiet life, but true to form, she still craved adventure.  
   
Winston had bummed around the Watchpoint with only Athena to talk to, solving equations to kill time, trying to come to terms with the fact that he was Overwatch’s de facto commander.  
   
While everyone naturally had a lot to talk about, adventures both factual and exaggerated, there were topics no one would bring up. There were three of them, actually. Jack, Ana, Gabe.  
   
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
This was all six months ago. Overwatch was up and running, albeit running like an old car with an engine held together by chewing gum. The United Nations had given Overwatch a reluctant go-ahead, mainly because of the new leadership. Their reluctance pertained to this alleged peace organization containing criminals, but Winston had convinced the UN that these offenders (McCree, Genji, to name a few) would be on their best behavior. And thus the UN expunged their criminal records, but not before the expungees had been given the sternest of warnings.  
   
The months following the recall had brought in new recruits. And before any scouted potential agents could be recruited, there would be a briefing meeting for all current agents. In these meetings, Winston would pull up a hologram of the proscpective agent's file, and everyone would review and discuss and see if it would be a good idea to sign the up.  
   
   
Hana Song, the famed former gamer and MEKA pilot was recruited first.  
   
She was followed by Lucio Correia Dos Santos, the celebrated Brazilian freedom fighter/DJ with a heart of gold.  
   
Lucio, in turn, was followed Fareeha Amari, daughter of the late, great, Ana Amari and a stranger to none of the more seasoned agents as she'd grown up with the organization. Former decorated soldier in the Egyptian army and former security chief at Helix Security International.  
   
The most recent recruit was Zenyatta Tekhartha, former Shambali monk and wondering guru, who has brought peace and enlightenment to many.  
   
All of them young idealists with spotless records, exactly what Overwatch needed to impress the UN, and the world. Before the shutdown, Overwatch would hire the most qualified candidates, and conveniently forget about their checkered pasts. Although in desperate need of more agents, the UN was not keen to recruit anyone who was less than perfect. Any candidate the UN considered not good enough, yet would still be an asset to Overwatch, required a good deal of finagling on Winston's part.  
   
   
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
   
Since the recall, there had been two missions. Information gathering, fact finding, reconnaissance, call it what you will. Jesse McCree called it boring. No discharge of weapons would be preferable, though minimal would be tolerated. Exit and entrance of the dropship at the designated times. Stay away from the press. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. With a new leader and pressure from the UN, tighter regulations were in order. This included meetings to summarize the missions, and true to bureaucracy, mountains of paperwork, and miles of red tape to cut through. To McCree, it was the pinnacle of everything dull and an utter waste of time. Besides, bureaucracy is an extension of The Law, something Jesse often found fault in.  
   
So Jesse took every opportunity he could to relax and escape the new Overwatch. It was extremely recommended that agents not leave the Watchpoint with the exceptions of missions and supply runs, so he had little choice but to stay on-base. He would sit on the roof of the Radar Array building, back to the rest of the Watchpoint, mostly hidden by tarps and canisters and other equipment. There he’d lounge and smoke a cigar or two, relaxing as his fellow agents did whatever. He had a nice sea breeze from the Mediterranean, a pretty good view, and sweet, sweet isolation. Jesse had been on his own for so long, he still wasn’t totally accustomed to other people, though he had deep respect and appreciation for the other agents. While the cliffside was directly in front of him, the sea was to his left, and he'd sit on that metal roof and watch the ships go bye. Everything from big cargo ships to little two-man fishing boats. While he was not fond of travelling on boats himself, Jesse could still appreciate how they looked as they drifted past. If he chose to go up to his spot at night, he could see the old red and white lighthouse with its slowly rotating beacon.  
   
   
While McCree was revelling in his alone time, his communicator went off. It was a message from Winston with all the current agents cc’d. Something about a briefing. It was not marked “urgent” or “mandatory”, so Jesse figured he could skip this one little trip into Bureaucracyville, and he could just ask Genji or Pharah what happened in the meeting at dinner. If Winston was annoyed or irritated by his absence, he could just apologize and everything would probably be ok. Winston was a pretty nice and forgiving guy that way, even though McCree had missed plenty of “non mission critical” briefings before. Jesse supposed Winston had too much on his plate as the de facto commander to worry too much about one agent skipping a meeting  
   
But little did McCree know, this meeting held a lot of relevance for his own future.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep so here you go, that was chapter one. Chapter two is definitely going to pick up and Hanzo is going to show up. It'll probably come out this week. FYI, if you've read my McTangled fic, chapter two of that is almost done and will probably be released this week too. 
> 
> So thanks for reading my stuff, and stay tuned!


End file.
